Religious Life

Celibacy and
the Rediscovery of the Androgyne

After
a few meteoric attempts to appropriate its power, the declaration that
in Christ there is no more male or female faded into innocuous
metaphor, perhaps to await the coming of its proper moment. Wayne
Meeks.

Androgyny seeks to liberate the
individual from the confines of the appropriate. Carolyn Heilbrun.

Two key concepts are being explored in this
essay: Celibacy and
Androgyny. Celibacy is popularly
understood as a rejection of anything to do with sex because we assume
that God is asexual, and that sex is a gross distraction from an
authentic spiritual life. In more positive terms, celibacy is seen as
an option to forego sexual pleasure and intimacy in order to dedicate
one self more fully to God and to God’s mission of love and service to
others. Despite the positive meaning, the anti-sexual asceticism
prevails, inhibiting a more informed understanding of this life-option.
The call to celibacy needs a fresh appraisal.

Basic to all
considerations is the historical fact that people have opted for
celibacy throughout much of human history. The evidence seems to
suggest that this was short-term rather than for a whole life-time,
although examples of the latter can be gleaned among Shamans and other
sage-like people, dating back some 20,000
years. A religious/spiritual motivation always seems to accompany this
option. And, I suggest that it is that same religious/mystical
component that has been grossly misunderstood in more recent millennia.

Before
describing
what Androgyny entails, I wish to challenge the prevailing
view of human sexuality as a biologically determined endowment. It
seems to me, and to many developmental psychologists, that our
sexuality is first and foremost a form of psychic energy and not just a
biological capacity with procreation as its primary purpose. The
physical and biological dimensions of our sexuality ensue from the
psychic foundations. As a psychic phenomenon, sexuality may be
described as the sum total of our feelings, moods and emotions as
articulated through relational interaction, which the Canadian
theologian, Carter Heyward (1989, 3)
pushes into the spiritual realm by defining sexuality as: “Our embodied
relational response to sacred/erotic power.” The psychic and
spiritual aspects become much more transparent and integrated in the
life-experience of the androgyne.

I am proposing an
understanding of celibacy that may seem very new, but in fact is quite
ancient. By revisiting the notion of androgyny, I want to activate a
spirituality and theology of celibacy more coherent and congruent for
our time.

What is Androgyny?

Labelled
by
the medical/psychiatric profession as the ultimate state of
confusion – whereby a person is not clear whether one is male or female
– nowadays the notion of androgyny is ridiculed rather than clinically
dismissed as deviant. Subsumed under the label of the hermaphrodite it
tends to be perceived as an idiosyncratic adoption of maniacs or
new-age freaks. Retrieving the positive – and more ancient – meaning is
not an easy task.

Gender is also a contentious issue of our
time, and it is difficult to describe androgyny without resorting to
gender language. In the androgynous state, the biology tends to be
clearly demarcated. Contrary to transsexuals, androgynes do not wish to
have a sex change; in fact they tend to be quite comfortable in their
gendered identity as male or female. What is different is the psychic
energy that informs their erotic drives and desires.

Initially,
the desired integration may manifest in a man becoming restless and
disillusioned with conventional male roles, no longer wishing to play
games of competition and male prowess, but desiring a lifestyle of a
more cooperative and creative nature. In a woman, it will sometimes
become manifest in a desire for greater achievement and competence in a
commercial or business role. It is not a case of switching roles, or
breaking down more conventional boundaries. Both men and women find
themselves drawn to engage in social, relation and professional
behaviour which tends to transcend the cultural attributes often
identified with a specific gender. And irrespective of what society
feels about the newly adopted role, deep inside the androgyne knows a
type of “home-coming” which defies rational explanation.

The
inner drive is towards integration and wholeness, motivated in this
case not so much by conscious choice as by an inner subconscious urge
which is fundamentally spiritual in nature. And it is not a
once-and-for-all achievement; it is a life-long process, which merits
the status of a life-calling or vocation, as distinct from a goal one
reaches through learning and human accomplishment.

The androgyne
and mystic seem to have a lot in common; each aspires to a sense of
wholeness that transcends all our man-made distinctions and dualisms.
Perhaps, St. Paul was alluding to this when he describes the new person
in Christ: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, . . .slave or free, . . .
male or female” (Gal.3:28). The mystical
dimension helps to articulate and channel the spiritual meaning which
is central to androgynous orientation; this may be subconscious rather
than conscious and may not be easily integrated with formal religion.

Psycho-sexually,
androgynous
behaviour is informed by a stronger desire for psychic
wholeness rather than driven to perform out of stereotypical,
biological conditioning. Because it is difficult to internalise this
identity in a culture addicted so rigidly to sexist and gendered
stereotypes, androgynes are often labelled as bi-sexuals or
transsexuals, and some prematurely adopt these labels.

Celibacy as an androgynous call

I
suspect that people called to a celibate vocation effectively embrace
an androgynous identity. This is not something they have consciously
chosen; more likely it is something that happens in the internal
spiritual realm evoking a particular calling or vocation. Were such
people always disposed to this calling - already marked out at birth as
several ancient cultures claim? I feel unable to offer a meaningful
response to this question. Whatever the preconditions governing the
vocational call, the consequences remain the same and it is the
consequences I am exploring in this essay.

Celibacy in its
primordial significance seems to arise from a passionate desire to
share more closely in the erotic intimacy of the Divine. God is the
supreme lover who allures and captivates the heart of the loved one.
This can easily be depicted as a mystical calling for the rare few,
with nothing of value or worth for the rest of humanity. I suspect that
the opposite may be the case. The celibate fulfils a cultural role –
perhaps a paradoxical one – exemplifying the ultimacy that is at the
heart of all our desiring as a human species. Of course, the vocational
motivation may be based on less worthy aspirations, some of which may
even be pathological; this is an area for profound and comprehensive
discernment.

Despite this divine initiative – or perhaps
precisely because of it – I wish to suggest that the celibate calling
is a highly sexualised one. The celibate may well be the most erotic of
all humans, honouring a very ancient understanding of the Divine as a
highly eroticised life-force, impregnating the whole of creation. That
being the case, two important adjustments need to be made to our
thinking. Firstly, God is not a-sexual, and neither is any organism
created by God. Secondly, the celibate needs expressive outlets for
psycho-sexual energy, which cannot be adequately or appropriately
channelled through sublimation or total abstinence.

On this
complex question, ancient cultures may have been far more enlightened
than contemporary ones. They provided outlets for the expression and
articulation of sexual desire other than those of the monogamous,
married relationship. They seem to have understood better the intense
and amorphous energy of human sexuality and facilitated its
articulation through rituals and ceremonies whereby people were
sexually intimate, inclusive of genital expression (not to be reduced
to biological intercourse). We glean evidence for this through ancient
Chinese and Indian art; through spiritually-informed traditions like
that of the Tantric philosophy of ancient India; in the iconography of
early Hinduism; through a vast range of initiation rites among
indigenous peoples, and through the courtly customs of mediaeval Europe.

That
celibacy
will involve an option for non-marriage makes a lot of
practical and pastoral sense. That it must also imply total abstinence
from sexual intimacy, is less compelling in our time. What may be most
shocking about this claim is my differentiation between marriage and
sexual expression. As indicated at the beginning of this essay, human
sexuality is a process of growing more deeply into our evolving
humanity - which for most of our time on earth was not confined to
monogamous marriage - and there are several contemporary indications
that this equation will not prevail in future.(P.S. To defend or
substantiate the contents of this paragraph would distract from the
central message of the essay itself. I simply want to invite the reader
to a place of deeper reflection from which may arise a more fruitful
dialogue. I also want to include rather than dismiss sexual experiences
which some celibates consider integral to their human and spiritual
growth. As we dialogue around this sensitive and urgent topic, we must
not assume that being sexual always entails genitality, nor should
genitality be equated with sexual intercourse).

How our culture
might provide appropriate outlets for the expression and articulation
of celibate sexual intimacy is a further consideration that need not
detain us now. Once we get the underlying vision clear, informed by a
larger sense of culture, history and especially sexuality itself, then
it will be easier to initiate the dialogue that will need to take
place, delineate necessary boundaries, discern moral guidelines, and
generate the good-will to provide the necessary support structures. The
inevitable fear is that this will release a new wave of promiscuity and
make a mockery of sexual morality at every level. My concern is to
clear up the immorality and promiscuity that have been far too
prevalent, and perversely covered over, for far too long. (see, Jordan
2000). Honesty and transparency is what I am ultimately pursuing.

Celibacy and Priesthood

In
popular Catholic culture, priesthood inevitably means a celibate
lifestyle. I believe this has obfuscated the real meaning of celibacy
and continues to make a meaningful retrieval both problematic and
confusing. Long before a dominantly male priesthood evolved (about
7,000 years ago), celibacy was extensively practised. Celibacy did not
begin with the Catholic Church, nor even with the monastic systems of
the other great religions. Celibacy should not be equated with any one
religious sub-group, particularly one so rooted in ecclesiastical
structure.

Formal priesthood is probably too rigidified,
institutionalised and ascetically based to appropriate the mystical
embrace of androgynous values. Those committed to the monastic/vowed
life stand a better chance of witnessing authentically, but that role
too has been co-opted into the ecclesiastical/religious system and,
correspondingly, has been seriously disenfranchised in terms of what it
has to offer. The congealed clericalised culture is just not amenable
to this new and daring vision.

In the light of recent debates,
especially in USA, one wonders if greater recognition of homosexuality
among Catholic priests and clerical students would be a step towards
the integration of the androgyne in priestly celibates. It may help,
but it could also confuse. Revisioning celibacy to accommodate those of
homosexual orientation is a desirable goal, but it leaves deeper issues
unrecognised and unresolved. In most cases, I suspect homosexuality is
not the problem; human sexuality is. Because of the heavy impact of
dualistic thinking in our Western world, unconsciously we try to
resolve problems by switching from one pole to the other. In the case
of celibacy, I think we are in great danger of missing the deeper
challenge, namely the archetypal lure to an androgynous lifestyle!

Celibacy contributing to abuse?

In
recent
years, the Catholic church in USA – and elsewhere – has been
rocked by sex scandals, leaving innocent victims scarred for life and
offending priests labelled as perverts. According to the report of
Feb., 2004 from the John Jay College of
Criminal Justice in New York, 4,392 priests
had been accused of sexual offences between 1950
and 2000. Their victims were predominantly
young boys between 12-14
years of age. The problem was attributed, firstly, to inadequate
screening when entering seminary suggesting that these were basically
immature men with serious sexual dysfunction. And, secondly, to
irresponsible Bishops who did not take appropriate action once their
sexual deviance was noticed.

Most reports on priest sexual abuse
follow this line of reasoning. Paedophilia (or more accurately, the
abuse of minors, ephebophilia) is widely regarded to be a form of
psychopathology, the origins of which are often traced to early family
history or traumatic experiences in early childhood. Few attempts have
been made to understand the phenomenon in a non-medicalised context.
Nor does the Catholic Church seem to want to ask one obvious question:
why the focus on young males, in a culture where females rather than
males are typically the victims of sexual abuse? Some commentators
(e.g., Jordan 2000)
distinguish between homoerotic and homosexual; it seems to me that the
former embodies a great deal more spiritual and psychic intent than the
later, and I am not convinced that the one leads automatically to the
other. A great deal has also been written about integrating the inner
child, a task that may be much more formidable, but also liberating,
for the androgyne. For these, and a range of other reasons, I suggest
the attraction of young males for some male celibates, needs a much
more profound analysis.

Naively, we assume that a homosexual
leaning is at the root of the problem of clerical abuse. To me, at
least, it seems fairly obvious that celibate sexuality itself, and the
repressive clerical culture in which it is (mal)nourished, is the
problem, precisely because neither the Church nor the wider culture is
capable of recognising or affirming what the call to celibacy is really
about. The so-called paedophile priest may be the ultimate scapegoat in
one of the greatest cover-ups known to modern culture.

Eugene
Kennedy (2001)
has taken the bold step to describe celibate sexuality in terms of an
archetypal wounding, which presumably can only be healed by tender and
compassionate care. And if such positive regard is not forthcoming,
then obviously the woundedness grows infectious and can create great
havoc for priests themselves as well as for others. While Kennedy
attempts to shift the focus to the archetypal level (I know of nobody
else who has attempted this), I have some reservations about his
starting point.

I don’t believe that people enter priesthood in
a wounded state - particularly those who feel a deep sense of calling.
I believe the majority enter as quite wholesome people who become
wounded because of the internal corruption of the
clericalised-institutionalised system with which they affiliate. Nor
should we lay all the blame at the feet of a culture of clericalised
power which Kennedy seems to suggest is the heart of the problem. I
blame the wider culture of repression which is unable to discern the
deeper meaning of human sexuality, for everybody, celibates included. Celibacy: The Future ?

The
call to celibacy has flourished for several millennia; it will continue
to flourish despite all the obstacles to its development, most of which
are religious in nature. Current evidence suggests that it may become
more diffuse in the wider population as growing numbers of women
particularly opt for single living - for a large part if not the whole
of their lives. This I describe as cultural celibacy, a single
life-style, frequently adopted in order to be more successful in a
career or in another life-project.

This is very different from
vocational celibacy, where the underlying motivation – conscious or
otherwise - is a desire to serve, typically informed by religious
faith. This is the calling which I suspect is closely related to the
psycho-sexual identity of being androgynous. The service at stake is
not just to the cloistered life of prayer and asceticism, nor,
alternatively, to the unstinting commitment to work for the liberation
of the poor and oppressed. These are external expressions of something
much deeper and more profound.

The service envisaged in the
celibate call goes to the very core of the divine erotic energy,
releasing and birthing forth the capacity for right relationships at
every level of creation. There are cosmic and planetary dimensions to
this call. This is big stuff, and not for the light-hearted! And this
is not just about human beings, nor must it ever be restricted to one
or other religion, church or denomination.

Like sexuality
itself, we have vilified celibacy in a crude, barbaric form of
reductionism. That very calling, which is about engagement with the
divine erotic in the whole of creation has been trivialised and
domesticated amid the ascetical distortions of a bankrupt sexuality. In
order to redeem the true archetypal meaning of this vocation, we
firstly need to reclaim what sexuality itself is about in its true
cultural and spiritual meaning. Only, then can we hope to understand
and appreciate the call to celibacy, not some irresponsible opting-out
of life, but a life-option of incredible richness, when understood and
embraced in a more authentic context.References
& Bibliography: